


Ace of Hearts

by korras_sports_bra



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Alternate Universe - Baseball, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-03-31 11:41:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3976729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/korras_sports_bra/pseuds/korras_sports_bra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asami Sato is the new pitcher for the Wolfbats, whereas Korra is the long term batter for the Fire Ferrets. The two rivals meet during the first games of the year, and while Korra is a pro on the field, she's an amateur when it comes to dealing with her own emotions.</p><p>(I'm really bad at writing summaries, sorry)</p><p>A modern Baseball AU told in Korra's perspective. Takes place in the suburbs of...some city. Feedback like comments and critiques are always welcome!</p><p>(taking a break on this one! but feel free to tune in whenever for other stories!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. PROLOGUE (kinda)

**Author's Note:**

> So I was doodling Korra as a baseball player on a piece of scratch paper, and then Asami kind of appeared on the page, too. And then I thought "Hey! You know what would totally destroy people? A sports AU where Korra and Asami have a really intense love-hate relationship! That'll really get the kiddies crying." So, my mindless scribbles kind of became a full-fledged AU and now it's apparent to everyone that I'm Korrasami trash...  
> 

 

 

I hated Asami Sato.

She was perfect in every mortal aspect--the way she carried herself was akin to a queen waltzing through the halls of her castle; she had a confident, graceful skip in her step. Her raven black hair flowed down the middle of her back in waves. She always wore a shade of cherry red lipstick and everywhere she went heads turned, like she was some kind of siren out of water.

And her throws--god, her throws were fucking phenomenal. She pitched like a dream. Her form was perfect, her follow-through was perfect, everything was perfect.

I remember the first time I saw her on the field. She was a new addition to the Wolfbats, which belonged to the rivaling school. Our districts have had this blazing rivalry for a solid eight years now, so it was predestined that my relationship with Asami was doomed from the start.

...Not that I cared...

To get to the point, Asami Sato was the fresh lead pitcher, and for a rookie, she was damn good at what she did. During the first game of the season, Asami Sato struck out three of our best batters within the first inning. My team and I were shocked; who the hell was this goddess-like pitcher? No one seemed to know exactly, but rumor had it she was a professional hired to steal the championship this year. As overall unlikely as that claim was, I couldn’t help but think maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t too far off.

Trust me, if you saw this beautiful dame in action, you would start to believe the rumors that flew around off the field, in the locker rooms, and after practice.

Asami Sato was arguably amazing, and I hated her for it.

Well, emphasis on “hated”, past tense.

Truth be told, this is how I fell hard and fast, head over heels, _insanely_ in love with Asami Sato.


	2. Rookie Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hoo boy here it comes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: I've updated a few characters and made a couple of changes but other than that it's same old same old!

 

The field had been freshly manicured--I could smell the bluegrass from my seat in the dugout. The air was hot and muggy, like fifty saunas had been opened simultaneously and everyone was in a shitty mood. Bolin, our catcher, was fanning himself with his catcher’s mitt while Mako, one of our best pitchers by far this year, had at least five ice packs laid out in a row on his stomach, head, and knees as he leaned back on the breeze blocks, his hat covering his eyes with his tongue sticking comically out of his mouth. I took liberty of the several extra ice packs he was hogging, placed one on my forehead and closed my eyes.

 

“That’ll be twelve dollars.”

 

I opened my eyes and squinted at Mako. “You’re asking the wrong person for money; I left my wallet in the locker rooms.”

 

Bolin stopped fanning himself and sat up so fast that his cap flew off his head. He looked like I just insulted his mother. “ _Nooo_ , you _didn’t._ ”

 

“Didn’t...what?” I frowned at him. “Why do you have that look on your face?”

 

Mako lifted the lip of his hat. “The Wolfbats have a nasty reputation for thievery.”

 

“Oh, gimme a break!” I smirked, whapping him on the back of his head so his cap tilted back down over his eyes. Mako flailed his arms around his head until it came off.  He was red in the cheeks.

 

“I’m serious!”

 

“He’s right, Korra,” said Jia Lee next to Bolin--one of our relievers. Jia Lee was perpetually stuck in a bad mood, furiously gnashing on a wad of gum--the only good reason she could be so angry was because she hardly ever got a chance on the field. She leaned back, making herself as comfortable as possible when all she had to work with was a hard metal bench and a brick wall. “They stole the ¥50 I earned in tips and my PhoNatic gift card last season.” She glared at Bolin, who weaseled up to my shoulder as if she was gonna slap him with a rolled up newspaper. “ _Someone_ allegedly watched it all go down and didn’t do anything about it,” she said, prolonging the “s” in _someone_ like some possessed snake woman.

 

“Hey--I would have done something! ...If I didn’t have my music up so loud...dumb sound-cancelling headphones...”

 

“The _point_ is,” said Mako, glaring at the field, “that they’re a bunch of well-off rich kids that go to a rich school, where no one is held accountable for their actions because their mommies and daddies bribe the administrators to keep their mouths shut and their heads up their asses.”

 

I glance at Bolin, leaned away from Mako and gave him a quick shove. “Damn, drama queen who spit in your coffee?”

 

Jia Lee sat up so quick it made me jump. She stuck a finger out, pointing onto the field as players set up for the first inning. “Holy fuck! That’s your ex, isn’t it?!”

 

I put my hand above my eyes and followed her finger and squinted against the harsh sunlight before I made out the pitcher.

 

And there she was; A long mane of black, wavy hair flowing out of a ponytail, neatly painted fingernails on her hips, with her cleats jabbing the ground as she blew a bubble out of her gum. She was awfully tall, and as she turned, much to my surprise, she was wearing dark red lipstick. To me it looked like she painted it on with the blood of her enemies.

 

“The rookie?” I asked.

 

“Oh no,” said Bolin, a nervous smile creeping up on the corners of his mouth. He kept glancing over at Mako. “She’s waaay more than that.”

 

“Shut up, Bolin,” Mako muttered through his teeth with his arms folded tightly over his chest. The ice packs on his stomach looked like they were steaming...

 

“If you won’t tell her, I will,” he teased.

 

I was starting to connect the dots when Jia Lee scoffed.

 

“ _Christ_ , I’ll tell her!” She leaned back against the breeze blocks again, perpetual scowl back in it’s rightful place. She was starting to look a lot like Mako. “That’s Asami Sato, aka Mako’s ex-girlfriend. She’s the goody little daughter of Hiroshi Sato, the guy who owns Future Industries.”

 

“Wait, _the_ Hiroshi Sato? The owner of _the_ Future Industries?” I asked, dumbfounded. Future Industries had some serious bank, I was surprised she didn’t go to the country’s highest most pretentious international boarding school or something. But, I still wasn’t sure why she was so grouchy all of a sudden. “...You have a grudge held against her or something?”

 

“No,” Jia Lee mumbled, looking away. “But she’s stuck up and rich like the rest of the Wolfbats so that’s reason enough to dislike her.” I felt like there was more to the story, but I didn’t bother trying to pry. At this point, Bolin and I were sandwiched between two angry book stoppers--I would hate to give either of them a reason to explode. Bolin looked like he was about to say something, so I slapped my hand over his mouth, giving him a _don’t you dare_ look. Relationship drama before a game was bad luck, and Bolin and I found out the hard way when he and I hooked up, I (stupidly) kissed Mako, and broke Bolin’s fragile puppy heart...all in the same day. We lost 4 to 0 the following game.

 

That was a very weird, very confusing summer...

 

I stole a glance back out onto the field. Hasook was the first batter to plate, and despite the fact that he was on the sport for about five years, he wasn’t our best. At that point though, no one was worried, so most of the team was slouched back on the bench as the heat wave rolled over and fizzed everyone’s brains. I did the same, sliding into my seat and taking my gloves off, threads and lint sticking to my sweaty hands as I watched Asami Sato wind up for the first pitch of the day. Everything kind of bled into the quiet, hot afternoon...

 

\---

 

We were losing royally.

 

Everyone looked as if they’d been in a collective car accident simultaneously. Mako finally had a good reason to use his ice packs though; his ankle was badly twisted when he tried to get the ball during the second inning. Wei and Wing, our top left and right field catchers, were leaning up against each other, hair disheveled, foreheads slick with sweat. They were wrecked to hell.

 

By the fifth inning of the last game, we were at 6 to 8, Hana grounded on second base. I was never positioned against Sato, which surprised me. Maybe Coach was trying to save me for last resort, I don’t remember. I just knew that for the first time in a long time, I didn’t want to go up to bat in fear I would be letting my team down. Asami Sato was insanely good, too good, and if our best batters couldn’t even score a hit with her on the field, then how could I?

 

“Korra,” I heard Coach Beifong's voice yell. She was a cranky, stick-up-her-ass kind of person, who always looked like she smelled something horrible. “Batter’s box, hop to it.”

 

My stomach dropped. _I think I’ll sit this one out..._

 

“Korra! Get your head out of your ass and get on the field!”

 

_Well it was worth a try._

 

My legs moved like they were made out of springs and I bolted up from my seat. “Yes Coach!”

 

“We’re counting on you, kiddo,” Coach said, and I swore I could hear a threat hanging from her lips. “Don’t screw this one up.”

 

“Gee,” I muttered, swallowing the lump in my throat that has started to choke me. “I don’t feel any pressure at all. Thanks, Coach.”

 

“Don’t mention it,” she droned sarcastically, checking the scoreboard with her hands on her hips. She looked angrier than usual. “Knock that Sato girl back and we might have a fleeting chance.”

 

I gulped, and forced my way out on wobbly legs.

 

Once I exited the dugout, I could feel everyone’s eyes stuck to the back of my uniform, and for the first time in years I didn’t want to go up to bat in fear I would be letting my team down. I couldn’t let them know that--so I pulled my best poker face and marched out onto the field towards home plate, the sun beating down hard on my shoulders, burning through the fabric. I could already feel the beads of sweat rolling down my eyebrow, lining my temple.

 

_Get your shit together, Korra..._

 

When I got up to the plate, I looked up, and something sparked in me when I met eyes with Asami Sato.

 

She had these icy greens that were dead-locked with mine. Her face was stern and she had this concentrated look on her face, but the most prominent expression she displayed was uncannily related to a smug grin. Then it hit me--she expected to strike me out immediately; she anticipated a quick defeat, and every fiber of my being wanted to prove her wrong.

 

Any sound from the audience or my team was white noise buzzing in my ears. In my mind, there weren’t any other players or umpires or parents cheering on their kids...

 

It was just me and Sato--one on one.

 

I dug my toes into the ground, dirt caking the sides of my cleats. I took a huge breath of air, not once daring to take my eyes off of the ball cradled in Sato’s mit, readying my bat behind my head.

 

Bring it.

 

Her arm followed through.

 

I swung.

 

“Strike!”

 

My heart sunk. It was one thing to experience her pitches from a third person point of view, but being this up close and personal...Basically the ball looked like a bullet at this angle, and I didn’t even have a second’s bliss to react. In the corner of my eye, I saw my team-mates slouch back on the benches. Mako pulled his cap down, and Bolin was furiously biting his nails.  I bit my lip, cracked my knuckles and brought my bat back up, wringing the handle with my hands so hard that it burned. “No way, Sato,” I whispered. “I’m not done yet...”

 

She threw.

 

I swung.

 

“Strike two!”

 

Asami had the biggest, most obnoxious smirk on her face. I wanted to march over there and use her head as the ball for once...

 

“Come on, Korra!” yelled Mako.

 

“Show that Gucci-lovin’ pansy who’s boss!”

 

“Last chance,” I muttered to myself, trying to tune Bolin and Mako out. My heart developed a faster pace as I exhaled, trying to bring air into my lungs and I brought my bat back up from the follow-through. “Last chance...”

 

She wound her arm, brought up her knee and threw.

 

I swung.

 


	3. Sore Loser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well after a whole year of completely neglecting this, my friend inspired me to get back into the swing of things and finish up this dumb story! Here take it *throws chapter three at u guys* ya filthy animals

It was like all my senses were hit at once.

 

In slow motion, my ears screamed with the sound of yelling from all directions. My eyes darted over to the dugout and Bolin’s on his feet, like a lunatic, waving his arm forward. Mako is on the edge of his seat, trying not to aggravate his bad ankle. The rest of the team is practically over the railing looking like a row of desperate tourists trying to flag down a taxi. I look out over the field and the Wolfbats were scrambling like a colony of pissed off ants. Asami Sato, as pretty as she was, looked downright furious. 

 

And that’s when I realized that I actually hit the ball. 

 

I flung the bat and bolted. The soles of my feet jolted with painful electricity as I scrambled to first base. I tried not to look at where the ball went, but it was apparent that it gave Hana enough time to reach 3rd just as I stomped down on 2nd and passed the shortstop, who was looking desperately at his teammates still fumbling with the ball, and my stomach flops. Past the shortstop was Tahno, who grabbed the ball after wrestling it away from his teammates (if there was gonna be a spotlight he wanted to be directly under it), about to pitch it toward 3rd base. Hana didn’t pass home plate yet, but that didn’t matter; he was focused on trying to get  _ me _ out. 

 

_ Oh, fuck you and your stupid hair!  _ My legs screamed as I ran for dear life, forcing myself to keep looking straight as Hana passed home plate. Like a switch, the ball’s shadow whizzed over my head, followed by the actual baseball. I panicked, jumped, and dove for home, smashing my jaw against the ground. Gravel flew into my eyes and I shut them tight as I sled to glory gracefully on my belly.

 

...I was afraid to open my eyes. Half because I didn’t know if I was touching home plate or the catcher’s shoe, half because there was an entire desert’s worth of dirt and sand stuck in my eyes. My left arm had got caught under my stomach and I’m pretty sure I twisted it in the most unnatural way humanly possible. My mouth was full of gravel and my tongue was bleeding from when I smashed my jaw and bit down on it. Maybe if I stayed really still and didn’t open my eyes, I could pretend that this was all a dream and--

 

“ _ Out!” _

 

_...What. _

 

I opened my eyes, and immediately regretted it because of the dirt, but I blinked through the pain so I could see it for myself:

 

From what I could see through my blurry vision, my fingertips were  _ barely _ touching home plate, but I also noticed something that made the blood in my mouth ten times more bitter: the ball was on my shoulder. 

 

As I exhaled, everything magically unmuted. Bolin, Mako, Coach, and the entire team were yelling and swearing over the umpire, who was trying to yell back over them. The Wolfbats were cheering and high-fiving, with Tahno and his condescending hairstyle stuck in the middle as he was shrouded with praise. Before that crushing sensation could knock me full force in the gut, Hana’s shadow, hovered over me. Despite being 5’3”, she looked bigger and more threatening, like she was the grim reaper coming to say “yeah you fucked up big time, say goodbye to your winning streak”.  With her arm outstretched, she looked down at me and smiled. It wasn’t a joyful smile, or a bratty smile, more like a pity smile--she was trying to be sympathetic. 

 

“I’m sorry, Korra,” she said as she helped me up by my good arm. “You tried.”

 

The word “tried” hit me like a sack of metal bricks.  _ But I didn’t try hard enough... _

 

Hana walked me over to the dugout, where the Coach was still exchanging some choice words with the umpire. Mako and Bolin were watching them from the side, trying to get their argument stitched into the conversation, but Coach told them to back off. Just as I was about to regroup with the team, I noticed Sato.

 

She stood at the pitcher’s mound, staring right at me. She didn’t have that devilish twinkle in her eye, more like she was just...looking. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking, and before I could decide anything for myself, Tahno was calling her over to the dugout. Now, Tahno definitely had a look on his face I wanted to slap off.

 

...Looking back, I probably should have. 

 

I turned back to the dugout where Mako and Bolin shared the same expression that Hana had. I was hoping they just wouldn’t look at me at all, feeling the guilt wash over me like a cold shower.

 

“It’s okay, Korra,” said Mako. He had that “disappointed dad” face. Bolin on the other hand was giving me puppy dog eyes as he clapped a hand on my shoulder. 

 

“Don’t sweat it, Korra--you were great, even if you didn’t score! Plus the look on Sato’s face was hilarious--”

 

“I know, but...” I started to say: “I let you guys down”, but the words wouldn’t come out. 

 

“Korra.”

 

We all jumped back a little. For some reason I was expecting Sato, but it was Coach Beifong. I wasn’t any less stressed, though. 

 

After a long, hard pause, she finally said: “You did good, kiddo, even though the odds were against us from the start. We’ll get them next time.” With that she nudged me in my bad arm with the flat of her knuckles. She didn’t mean any harm by it, but I winced and she seemed to notice that. “You’ve earned a trip to the lockers,” she said. “Get that arm checked out. If it’s bad enough to keep you from playing next week we’ll be in trouble.”

 

A girl with dark skin and beautiful green eyes ran up and put her hand on my shoulder--Opal.

 

“Hey Korra!” she said. Her smile was almost contagious. Over her shoulder I saw Bolin with those big googly eyes that he got whenever he saw something he admired, which was either food or Opal. Mostly the latter. “That was a nasty fall, but I don’t think you dislocated it or anything.” She started walking me over to the lockers. I tried to ignore the pack of Wolfbats gathering around Sato and Tahno as they celebrated victory like it was the end of High School Musical. Besides, Opal was much more pleasant to look at. “Better safe than sorry, though.”

  
  


\---

 

 

I never liked the lockers.

 

Usually, professional or not, baseball locker rooms had open-air wooden cubbies with personal stools in front of them, bright overhead lights and carpeted floors. That was if, and only if, your district had high funding, which ours didn’t. Besides, most of the district’s budget was funded by Future Industries, which most likely went to the school that the boss’s daughter attended, i.e., not ours. With the little budget we had they installed these generic green metal lockers with see-through mesh, paired with one hard metal bench for each row of lockers (the same metal benches that we had in the dugout). To top it off, the budget could only afford wood-print floors, which were tiles that imitated the grain of wood floors, and it wasn’t level. At all.

 

Which is how I ended up tripping on the sloped floor and landed on my nose.

 

“Oh god Korra--” Opal helped me back up. “Are you okay?”

 

“I’m oday,” I said pinching my nose. “I dew ih ahl de dime.”

 

Opal laughed. “That’s not a good thing, and don’t tilt--here,” she leaned my head forward. “Tilt your head this way, so you don’t get blood in your mouth.”

 

“Growssth.” I kept my head forward. Opal sat me down and got out the first aid from the cabinet on the wall, threw me a package of Kleenex, pulled out two ice packs (one for my arm, one for my nose) and moved my jersey sleeve up to my shoulder.

 

“Ow.”

 

“Did I hurt you?”

 

“Yeah, I think I messed up my shoulder when I landed.”

 

“I hope not. Take off your jersey so I can see.”   


 

I smiled. “Did you use that same trick with Bolin when he messed  _ his  _ shoulder up?”

 

“Wh-huh?? No! No, I didn’t--” She blinked, then grabbed me by my bad arm. “Do you want me to fix your arm or make it worse?”

 

I froze mid-laugh. “Opal oh my god I was joking, please be careful.”

 

She sighed, the red in her cheeks fading. I thought that was the only reaction I was gonna get out of her, since she started to zone out while she worked on my arm, until finally-- “Well the good news is that it’s not dislocated, just bruised.” She pointed at my shoulder and sure enough the skin was starting to purple. She pointed to my wrist. “Try to move it.”

 

That sucked. When I rotated my hand my wrist set fire and I recoiled. 

 

“Yeah, you might’ve torn the ligament. It could be a scaphoid fracture.”

 

“That sounds really bad.”

 

“It’s not. Well, not really. It means that you might be out for the next three games.”

 

“WHAT.” I felt my nose starting to bleed again.

 

“Idiot, your nose!” She stuffed several tissues into my hand.

 

“I--thanks. But, how is that  _ not _ bad?”

 

“It’s not bad because if it’s mild enough won’t cause permanent damage. Which is what I was worried about.”

 

“If it’s mild enough--meaning it  _ could  _ be permanent?”

 

“It could, but in your case, I don’t think so. You’ll have to get an x-ray to know for sure, but in the meantime--” she whacked me with an ice pack and brushed her finger over the middle of my  wrist. “Hold it there for me.”

 

“Uh, okay.”

 

Opal pulled out a little rolled-up bundle of elastic gauze and wrapped it tight so that the ice pack was trapped around my wrist. It hurt, but not as much as landing on it.

 

“Try not to move it too much, and try to get it checked out this weekend when you have the time. Doctor’s orders.”

 

I laughed. “You’re not a doctor.”

 

“Not yet, but I’m more qualified than you.”

 

I kept my hand in my lap and rolled my shoulder. “You wanna be a doctor?”

 

“Maybe.” Opal packed up the first aid kit, but not before tossing me a bottle of ibuprofen. “You should take two of those.” 

 

“Thanks, Nurse Opal.”

 

I stood up and shoved them into my duffel bag. In my locker. Which was open.

 

“What the fuck...” I turned to Opal. “Did I leave my locker open?”

 

Her expression changed, like she smelled something bad. She wasn’t looking at me anymore, but right behind me. “No, I don’t think so.”

 

“Hello, uh-vatar.”

 

I wrinkled my nose. Tahno  _ was  _ a bad smell. And he was the only one who pronounced my nickname like that. He was shadowed by two of the best fielders on his team.

 

“Ugh, who let you in? And why is my locker door open you creep?”

 

His hands came off his hips and into the air as he shrugged. “ _ I  _ don’t know what you’re talking about. And It’s not like your school owns the place. I can go wherever I want.”

 

“They should put you on a leash,” I said. “I get enough of your ugly mug on the field.”

 

The corner of his mouth twitched. “You’re awfully snappy for someone who just cost her team the game.”

 

Ouch. His goonies snickered as I got up in his stupid little face, nose to nose. My hand curled into a ball. “You wanna dance, pretty boy?”

 

“I’ll let you have the first shot.”

 

“Korra, don’t do it.” Opal pleaded. “The situation’s bad enough with your arm. You’ll get suspended.”

 

I didn’t want to consider the consequences, but Opal was right. As much as I really, really, really wanted to, I couldn’t lay a finger on Tahno’s pretty little head, otherwise I would really have a good reason to sit out--for the rest of the season. 

 

“Tahno.”

 

His beady eyes shifted away from me. I peeked over his shoulder on my tiptoes. 

 

It was Sato. Her cap was strapped to the belt loop on her pants, and her hair was down. Her eyes were warmer somehow, but she looked like she meant business. She had her full attention to Tahno. “Coach wants you.”

 

He scowled, but as he turned back to me, his condescending smile came back full force. “Maybe next time.” He turned his back, but before leaving, he gave Sato a nasty stare. I could barely pick out what he whispered to her: “Next time, don’t pick my fights for me.” But she stood her ground; she was almost as tall as him. With that, he waved for his minions to follow him. “See ya around, Uh-vatar.”

 

The door squeaked to a close. I crinkled up my nose and stuck my tongue out as if they could see me through the door. My shoulders deflated as I realized that Asami was still in the room. She walked two paces forward. She tossed something towards me and before I could register what it was, I cradled it awkwardly to my stomach to keep it from falling.

 

_ My wallet? _

 

“Tahno had it in his back pocket,” she said. She turned to the door and opened it.

 

“Uh, thanks...”

 

She stopped, but didn’t look at me. “That...doesn’t make us friends.” The door closed behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha...geddit..."sore" loser.... ;DDDDDDD


End file.
